


we should all remember the times we were fake dead

by zarabithia



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, genderfluid Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Five times Tim woke up to see Jason taking care of him, plus one time that the rest of the family was allowed to know what was going on.





	we should all remember the times we were fake dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cero_ate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cero_ate/gifts).



> Myriadnakama asked for Jason/Tim, genderfluid Jason
> 
> Canon? Pft. Mostly set in the new 52 with pre-52 histories. I do what I want.

1\. The first time Tim opens his eyes, it feels like a knife is slicing through both of his eyes simultaneously. He closes them almost immediately, but before he does, he gets a glimpse of a red helmet. His head is throbbing like maybe someone really did shove a knife through his skull.

He's having a lot of trouble thinking clearly, so maybe someone did. But through the fuzzy head and the need to block everything out, he can vaguely make out the faint smell of cigarettes and gunsmoke. He can feel the roughness of a familiar leather jacket against his arms and he doesn't have time to wonder why his arms are bare before he passes out again.

2\. The second time Tim opens his eyes, he smells something utterly obnoxious. It's a particularly foul scent that he can't immediately place. He tries to lift his head and all he can manage is "Gross."

A familiar face comes into view and Tim looks up into eyes soft enough that time becomes subjective enough that he's surprised the pants that Jason is wearing aren't green.

"Even when you're half dead, you're going to complain about the smell of my nail polish, Timbers?"

Tim feels a lot more than "half" dead, so he grunts a response before closing his eyes again. He faintly hears "It's such a pretty shade of red, too," before he falls back to sleep.

3\. The third time Tim opens his eyes, he does so strictly to verify that the new voice belongs to Roy Harper.

"I'm just saying that the white shirt looks tacky with the red leather."

"What do you know about what looks tacky, Harper? And not so loud, you'll wake up Tim."

"Too late," Tim croaks, and Harper receives a smack up the back of the head for it. It must not hurt very much, because Harper turns to grin at him.

"Bout time you wake up. Tell Jaybird a tan leather skirt would look better with a white shirt?"

"Red leather is my thing. It makes all the pretty little Robins go tweet tweet when they see me, isn' that right, Timbers?"

Tim strains his head to look; Jason does look like a candy cane that someone threw up, but he isn't going to say that aloud. "Black leather," he murmurs sleepily before closing his eyes again, because damn if that strain hadn't been too much. 

4\. The fourth time he opens his eyes, Tim's stomach is growling and Jason is sitting next to him, with a bowl of soup balancing on his lap. "Better than Alfred's waffles, worse than his chocolate chip cookies," he tells Tim. 

He wonders how much time has passed since the last time he woke up; the sun doesn't seem to have moved, but the window is small so he can't judge with a large degree of accuracy. Jason's attire has changed for the third time since he'd carried Tim to safety, so it could have been days, maybe weeks; it has probably been longer than a few hours.

He could ask, but Jason is pressing a spoon insistently against his mouth. Tim accepts it and swallows down something that is supposed to be chicken flavored, he thinks. "Always so impatient to shove things in my mouth," he gripes.

Jason laughs. "Fucking always," he says.

Jason's laughs are rare but beautiful things, and the tight green t-shirt paired with jeans far too small for him makes Tim wish he was going to be able to hold his eyes open longer than it will take to finish this bowl of soup.

5\. The fifth time Tim opens his eyes, short red nails are tapping against a worn cover of a book whose title Tim can't quite make out; Jason sits in an oversized bean bag a few feet away from the bed Tim is lying in. The bean bag at least is green. It breaks up the beige-with-shocks-of-red decor that makes up the rest of the apartment.

It doesn't match, but Tim remembers Cass' voice, soft and gentle, when she'd found out that Jason and Tim were together: "His favorite color used to be green."

Tim holds back a smile at the memory and swings his legs up and over the side of the bed. Standing might be a problem, but he can sit up and he stay awake. It feels like he's slept for months.

"It's about time," Jason chides him, lowering the book at looking at him critically. He's probably assessing whether or not Tim can stand up; Tim's not gonna risk it yet, anyway.  
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Van Winkle."

"It's good to be back. Think you can help me to the kitchen? Roy's not here to burn us any food, is he?"

"I sent him away after the second attempt at eggs." Tim's stomach growls at the mention of eggs, and Jason laughs as he slides an arm under Tim to help him up. "Glad you didn't die, babybird."

"Me too," Tim says. "There's some things I would have missed about being alive."

~  
+1  
"Unfuckingbelievable," Dick mutters at the phone.

"What is it?" Bruce asks.

"Is it word on Drake's disappearance? If it is word of another fake death, I shall disembowel him myself and make it stick so he will learn to quit fake dying!" Behind the harsh words are an obvious hope that Tim is okay; Damian will never admit to his worry.

"I just got a text from Roy. Apparently he's 'allowed' to tell us that Tim's been with Jason for a week and he's in the middle of eating an omelet," Dick said irritably. "And in case any of us want to 'bitch,' we should all remember the times we were fake dead and made people go to a funeral unnecessarily."

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

Bruce just scowled and turned back to his computer silently. But Damian let out a genuine laugh, whether from relief or amusement at the comment, Dick didn't know. Either way, his brothers were all safe and Damian was laughing, so Dick supposed he couldn't be mad - at least not very.  
~


End file.
